Dorothea's sleep had not been as peaceful as she had hoped. She hadn't slept in the same room as another person since she was a young apprentice, not yet even flowered. To do so again after all this time proved to be a great challenge, though eventually, and thankfully, exhaustion had claimed her and sent her into the realm of dreams and memories. Yet even there she would not find respite...

The dream began innocently enough, a memory of an archeological dig Master Arvis had them partake in months prior, studying fragmented stone carvings and runes in search of some lost lore or spell. She swore it was sunny that day, though the dreamscape depicted the site as bathed in rain and fog. She felt the rattling platemail of the Guardians at her side, their hands resting on the pommel of swords, ready to cut them both down at the slightest sign of insubordination. She [b]hated[/b]them. She [i]still[/i] [b]hated[/b] them.

And then as she repeated words beneath her breath, scribbling them down in a great book, she uttered the wrong word, and the whole dreamscape found itself swallowed up by a black void. She was alone. [i]Again[/i]. Her Master was lost in that great darkness, and with all her might she reached out to catch him.

It was not enough. It was [i]never[/i] enough.

She was the last to crawl out from beneath the covers when the morning came. She saw the others were already in various stages of readiness. Her stomach grumbled at the sight of their breakfast, and despite herself she happily devoured more than she probably should. The Dwarven cook knew her buns, that was for sure. Of course, after every binge came the gnawing guilt. She was taking advantage of the woman, and it stung.

Though, thankfully, she did not have time to wallow in self-pity for too long, as a chest was pointed out to her. A chest upon which rested the same carved crest as the one on the medallion that had lead her to this place. Anxiously, she pressed a hand softly against that symbol, and reverently opened it. Within, resting upon a bed of rough fabric, sat a worn spellbook, and the disassembled pieces of a great magical staff. She noted the knife-like blade upon it's end, and the soft blue light emanating from the gem adorned at it's top. This could not have been easily made, and likely cost a great deal of gold. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

The book contained main pages of arcane knowledge she was familiar with, but curiously an even greater amount of blank pages, worn but never used. Were they left so she could inscribe her own findings in them, at some point in a nebulous future?

She had been entrusted with all this. It was almost too much to take in...

And yet, Master Arvis had one final gift to deliver, for the rough fabric lying at the bottom of the chest was in fact a set of more non-descript robes. Far less likely to draw attention to her compared to the bright-blue apparel marking her as a mage of the Gallows. Excusing herself to a more private corner of the room, she giddly threw off the gold-accented silk and replaced it with the brown leather. She was not free. Not quite yet, but she had taken a great step forward.

Returning to the group, she gave Faline a nod, and spoke. [color=FF00FF]"Y-Yes, I am ready to depart."[/color]